On The Dotted Line

by Kim Carmichael

  “I have clothes at my place.” She held out the oversized bright red shirt and shrugged.

  “Okay.” He continued his ride down Wilshire. After they landed and made their way back to the city, he finally had to admit there would be no time to finish his work and his homecoming. Instead, they went with Peter to his office where he snuck in, changed into a spare suit, grabbed some files to take home and left his assistant behind to fix the shambles of his schedule.

  They neared Rodeo Drive and passed one of the high-end department stores where he knew many of the managers. “I just thought you might want something different.”

  “Different than what?” Her voice became tight, her words terse.

  “Just different.” He pointed to the store. “You will be meeting my parents for the first time in just a little bit.” His mother would have fainted at the sight of him in the tacky hotel attire, and like it or not he wanted Willow to make a good impression. It would make the impending scene much easier.

  “I’m sure I can find something at my place that will be suitable.”

  “Is it a suit?” Only semi-serious, he forced out a chuckle. Most women would have died to go on an all-expense paid trip to the land of the designers, but not his wife. Intriguing.

  “It will be whatever I decide to put on.” She crossed her legs and stared out the window.

  They didn’t say much as they drove the rest of the way to Los Angeles. The moment they turned down what Randolph wanted to dub proposal alley toward her shop, Willow wrapped her arms around her shoulders and fidgeted in her seat.

  “What’s the matter?” He peeked at her and then down the small passageway. Slate and Jade stood together down the alley. “Did you want to say hello?”

  “We need to figure this out.” She combed her fingers through her hair. “Can you park by my place? Look at us.”

  “I really wouldn’t worry about that.” He clutched the steering wheel. While Slate donned some sort of white fedora and a billowing white shirt, Jade wore a dress of blue ribbons. He doubted they would notice a t-shirt. Willow’s plan of hiding their relationship seemed a bit out of character for her. “Remember, I was more than happy to fix your clothing.”

  “I won’t be put in one of your expensive uniforms. I would rather be in this.” She exhaled. “And we discussed what we are not discussing already.”

  “Again, I ask how do you plan on hiding us for 364 more days?” He pulled up next to her store.

  “May I go in and talk to Nan first and then I’ll get you?” She grabbed the door handle.

  “Is she allowed to know we’re married, or should we just tell her we’re living together in sin?”

  “Can you please wait here while I talk to Nan?” She got the words out through clenched teeth.

  “I’ll sit here like a good husband.” He saluted her and put one finger over his lips. “Oops, I said the H word.”

  She gave him a glare and left.

  He watched her go inside her store and sat back taking a moment to stare out the windshield. Jade kissed Slate. Her ribbons blew in the light breeze and Slate took off his hat and bowed to her.

  The two were truly in love. A real connection was something that always seemed to elude him to the point where he had to find a woman as desperate as himself and then pay her off.

  After another two kisses, Jade turned and entered the gallery. Slate spun on his heel, returned his hat to his head, and charged straight for his car.

  He pressed the button to roll down the car window, his ring catching a ray of light and hitting the corner of his eye.

  Slate came over and bent down. “Jade wants to know what you’re doing with Willow.”

  To hide the evidence, he lowered his hand and slid his fingers under his leg. “I’m dropping her off at her shop.”

  “You left your party, she left your party, and you were seen leaving said party together. She wasn’t home all night and now you drive up with her almost twenty-four hours later.” Slate slapped the top of his car. “You look tired and terrible, so you must have had a great time.”

  “That is quite an assessment for someone dressed as a bleached pirate.” He pulled his lower lip.

  “Jade is the sky and I am a cloud, I float around her encompassed in her essence.” Slate narrowed his eyes. “Also, even though I am nothing but part of the atmosphere, my essence wanted me to tell you that if you hurt Willow because you’re licking some wound at your inheritance or whatever, she will get even with you.” Slate narrowed his eyes.

  “I never even implied I was licking wounds.” Fine, he stooped to the sex card, but Willow didn’t want the marriage mentioned.

  Slate chuckled and they both nodded speaking the universal language of men. “So, what are you licking?”

  He looked up to the ceiling of the car.

  “Oh, man.” Slate hit him in the arm. “So, exactly how natural is she?”

  He motioned for Slate to come closer.

  Slate turned his ear in his direction.

  “Just like in nature, there are always unexpected surprises.”

  Slate rubbed his chin. “Interesting.”

  The door to Willow’s shop opened and she appeared in what seemed to be some sort of gypsy costume complete with a long maroon flowing skirt, a huge belt cinching in her waist and a ruffled shirt topped off with a blue velvet vest. While the outfit did wonders to show off her shape, somehow he didn’t think she changed to look nice for him. In fact, quite the opposite. He rolled down the passenger side window.

  She stopped the second she spotted Slate. “Hi.”

  “Maybe the four of us will go out soon. Jade would like that.” In keeping with his character, Slate bowed to her. “I have to run. We’re going to a performance and to check out a new artist. I want to create some buzz for the co-op as well.”

  Once Slate was out of earshot, Willow opened the car door. “Why does he think we can go out together? I thought we weren’t going to say anything.”

  “I didn’t, he only thinks we had sex.” He tilted his head. “When you show up with their money you can explain how you earned it so quickly. Then again, maybe I can open up a secondary business.”

  “I guess I’m bought and paid for anyway.”

  “You put yourself up for sale, but at your prices you should really be on Rodeo.”

  Caught in a standoff, they stared at each other. He played the game every day in his work, and didn’t flinch. In contrast to his absolute control, she opened her mouth, closed it and bit her lip.

  He remained perfectly still.

  Like a fine vase in a 5.0 earthquake, she cracked. “Nan wants to meet you. If you avoid calling me a prostitute in front of her, she may not put a hex on you.”

  “What you call a prostitute, I call my wife.”

  “I thought we needed to get to your place.”

  “That we do.” He stepped out of the car. “Time to meet the family.”

  Willow’s outfit jingled as she turned. He rushed over and opened the door for her, and stepped inside her store. The soft fluttering of bells rang throughout the space and he was accosted by mass quantities of knick-knacks, fabrics and various other things he barely recognized.

  Having never ventured into her shop before, he blinked to bring everything into focus. “If I breathe, I’m still going to be able to drive us home without getting a DUI right?” The scent of herbs, spices and flowers wafted all around him.

  “It’s incense, try inhaling, it may do you some good.” She guided them through a set of deep violet drapes into the main store.

  More colors committed assault and battery on his senses. Every wall was painted a different deep hue, purple, green, blue and covered in everything from mirrors and crystals to shelves chock full of her yarn creations. The urge to create overtook him and he wondered if she would eventually allow him to make some alterations. “This is quite impressive.”

  “Is that your way of telling me you’re not impressed?”

  I
gnoring her comment, he stepped over to an entire wall devoted to jars and bottles of different types. “Willow’s Wonders?” He picked up one tall bottle. “Lavender and chamomile salve?”

  “Those are the holistic and therapeutic products Nan and I create.” She joined him, returned the bottle to its spot and pointed to the front of the shop. “Over there is where I make my teas.”

  “I’ve heard people discuss them.” He nodded. “You have an awful lot of different things here. Maybe you need to streamline.”

  “Our process is not made to be efficient, it’s made to heal and calm.”

  At an intruder’s voice, he turned.

  “Not everyone is the same, so we need to offer many solutions.” A short, round older woman in a purple floral muumuu approached.

  “It may help to make the store more profitable. Sell deep not wide.” He stepped forward, bowed slightly and held out his hand. “Nanette Riviera?”

  She grunted, but gave him her hand. Actually, she took his hand. “He’s nervous.”

  “He should be.” Willow laughed.

  Though he longed to take his hand back, he remained still. “I’m standing right here.”

  “As you describe it, he just got everything he wanted. Why should he be nervous?” She turned over his hand and gazed down at his palm. “Look here, Chiquita.”

  Willow joined Nan. “Interesting.”

  “What does it say?” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

  “What does what say?” Nan turned his hand over and back again.

  “My palm.”

  Nan put his hand up to her ear. “I don’t know. We don’t read palms.”

  Willow bit her lip, but couldn’t stifle her smile.

  “But you are telling me you’re nervous, you want leave and you hate being out of your element.” She released him.

  He shoved his hand in his pocket. “We do need to get going. If you want to pack a few things now, we can hire some help tomorrow to get everything organized.”

  “I’m ready.” Nan shook her head. “No need for assistance.”

  “I’ll be ready in ten minutes.” Willow put her hand on Nan’s shoulder and kissed her cheek. “Thank you for doing this.”

  “Change is life.” Nan patted her. “Randolph and I will talk.”

  Willow disappeared up the small flight of stairs. He pulled at his lower lip, not even wanting to imagine what would take only ten minutes to pack. His sock drawer would take twice as long. Well, sock drawers.

  A shudder ran through him, the same one as when someone came up to close behind him. He needed to face the inevitable and put a large Ivy League smile on his face before turning to Nan.

  The woman narrowed her eyes.

  He swallowed and went to say something endearing. Maybe tell her she looked lovely?

  “Remain silent.”

  He pressed his lips together.

  She held one finger up.

  He bit the inside of his mouth, examining the olive-skinned woman with her dark hair pulled back in a bun.

  She tilted her head left, right and left again.

  At last she nodded.

  “May I speak now?” He dug his nails into his palm, unwilling to be the butt of another one of her jokes.

  “Interesting.” She chuckled.

  “What is it?”

  “For someone who follows directions, you chose a strange time to be bad.” The corners of her eyes lifted in what seemed to be amusement.

  “Who said I follow directions?” Not wanting to stand in the middle of the tiny room any longer he motioned toward a couple of chairs and a table in the front by some books.

  “The list your father made you. You must be very determined or very weak.” The woman waddled over.

  He pulled out the chair for her. “Which do you think it is?”

  She plopped down in the wrought iron chair and looked backward at him. “You convinced my Chiquita to go along with your foolish plan.”

  “Ah, but she had me agree to take you along with me. In fact, she had me write you into the contract.” He took his seat across from her.

  “Willow’s strength was never in question.” She strummed her fingers on the table.

  Silence overtook them and the woman’s words echoed in his head. “For the record, I have done plenty of bad things.”

  “You are hiding something.” She chose an apple out of the little basket on the table. After examining the fruit, she rooted around in the basket and pulled out a little paring knife. “But you don’t know who you really are.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Could the woman read minds? Who was she to pass judgment on him?

  Rather than answer, she peeled the apple, the green peel coming off in one long spiral and falling to the table. She cut a wedge, pierced the section with the tip of her knife and held it out to him.

  “I don’t care for apples, thank you.” He tapped his foot on the floor and glanced at his watch.

  “You’ll like this one.” She continued to hold the offering out.

  To avoid being rude to a woman he needed on his side, he took the piece of fruit. He took a bite. Rather than being met with the expected overly sweet and too soft apple, a tangy, crisp tartness ran over his tongue. He crunched away, swallowed and popped the rest in his mouth.

  “Yes, I don’t think you know your true self.” She cut another section and held it out.

  Without hesitation he took the treat. “I am very aware of who I am and who I will be.” The woman was pulling some power play and before they all lived together for the next year he needed to make sure she knew the hierarchy.

  “Which is why you almost lost what you fought for your whole life and are letting an old woman who you don’t even know tell you what kind of fruit you like.” She hit the table and burst into laughter.

  “Nan?” Willow ran down the stairs, her outfit jingling all the way.

  At the sight of his bride, he stood. “I see we decided not to change.” Before they left he had to make sure of a couple things.

  “Come here, Chiquita.” Nan held her hand out.

  “Are you feeling all right? You seem pale.” Without even an acknowledgement his way, Willow put a duffle bag at the foot of the stairs and went straight to the woman, took her hand and knelt down beside her. “I’m sorry I didn’t discuss this with you first, but…”

  “I’m fine.” Nan placed her finger over Willow’s lips. “Hold on, Randolph needs to speak.”

  They both turned to him.

  He swallowed.

  “What is it?” Willow asked.

  “Did you tell Nan everything?”

  “I know your mother doesn’t know why you got married and I know you signed your life away.” Nan cut some more of the apple and gave it to Willow.

  Willow took the slice off the knife with her teeth.

  The whole action fascinated him.

  Nan ate the last slice. “I also know that you are generous as long as you get what you want.” She wiped off the knife, put it away and stood with the rest of the apple remnants.

  “What if I don’t get what I want?” He followed the woman as she waddled over to an oversized bag.

  “I have a feeling that hasn’t happened to you yet, but I hope you are strong enough to survive it.” She walked through the curtains toward the back. “I’ll put the peel and the core in the compost pile. Nothing should go to waste.”

  “Do we need to arrange for someone to pick up your cars?” He lifted Willow’s bag.”

  She shrugged. “No car, I don’t drive.”

  No car? “How did you get around?”

  “Two feet and ten toes.” She stepped in front of him. “Maybe you should take a walk if it wouldn’t be too much of a waste of time.”

  He followed Willow and peeked up the small stairwell. Her living conditions were not acceptable. No wonder it only took her no time to leave. “How were you living up there?”

  “Just fine. Nothing is ever a waste.
” She echoed Nan’s words.

  He motioned forward wondering what she would think of the land of waste and excess, or what he called home.

  Chapter Four

  Mansions in Beverly Hills were normally oversized, ostentatious houses bloated with material possessions. In the city where land was a premium, castles with wings and servants didn’t truly exist.

  At least those types of homes didn’t exist until they drove through the gates to Randolph’s residence.

  A virtual field of perfect green grass provided the backdrop for planned, pristine flowers, bushes, shrubs and trees, all creating the literal ideal landscape for a mansion. A real mansion. Randolph lived in a mansion.

  Willow’s breath caught. White columns, a sprawling building, and a fountain in the front. The place had enough wings it could take off and fly anytime, and never worry about losing altitude.

  “My great, great, great grandfather bought the land on a lark while on vacation decades ago,” as if sensing her need for an explanation, Randolph spoke. “He hated living back east and built the home. Every generation of my family has lived here at one point or another. My grandfather and grandmother lived here, but he loved the east and retired there to be closer to the rest of the family. I have always lived here. Since then, many people have tried to buy it, and though I think my father has been tempted…”

  “The house is yours after the year is out.” She finished for him. If all Randolph ever did with his life was sell the property, he would be set forever. Still, the thought of having something with such history intrigued her. She didn’t know the name of anyone in her family except her mother. Nan’s family wasn’t large either. Though Nan told her to concentrate on the present, it would be nice to have a past, something to give her a spot in the universe. “If you ever have a child are you going to give it to him or her or are you going to sell it?”

  “If I ever give it to a child, it will be exactly that, a gift.” His voice seemed far away.

  She inhaled and glanced down at her outfit. Maybe with the history and the generations that graced the halls of his home she should have toned it down a bit. No one ever gave her a list of tasks or led her down a path. Nan simply told her to let her heart guide her. In his own way, maybe Randolph tried to guide her, help her. She did have to live with these people for the next year.